Caught In Battle
by A.S.112
Summary: What would the Battle in Mission City from the first film have looked like from a normal pedestrian's point-of-view? Rated T for language & violence.
1. What the hell!

**A/N:** This is a fic from a normal pedestrian's point-of-view during the battle in Los Angeles from the first film. This idea just came to me in the middle of the night so I thought I would give it a shot! It's only going to be two or three chaps long, just so you know. Hope you like it!

Reviews would be amazing! Please write some! Thanks!

* * *

"So, Mr. John Destin," the female reporter began. "What do you do for a living?"

John, avoiding looking into the camera lens and keeping his posture and face relaxed, answered, "I'm an accountant for ATS Company. I manage consumer accounts, payroll and everything in between."

"How long have you worked there?" the reporter inquired.

"Almost four years now," he responded simply.

"Have you had any other major careers or military experience, perhaps?"

"Well," John said, thinking. "I haven't had any other major careers unless you count working at an electronics store 'major', but I worked in the military for two years."

"Where did you serve?"

"I served in D.C. for the Army. On occasion, I would work on Air Force One when they needed me."

"Do you have a family?" she pricked.

"No," John said, smiling and shaking his head slightly. "I'm not planning on having a family."

"How about a girlfriend?" she questioned with a flirtatious smile.

"No," John said bluntly.

She looked disappointed that she wouldn't get any juicy and interesting facts about him, but continued. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-eight."

"Now, concerning the alien attack that took place only a week ago, have you ever been in any alien-related experiences before?"

"No," John responded, chuckling at the abrupt question. "Never. I never believed in that sort of thing before. But, let me tell ya, it was wake-up call when I first saw it going on."

"Could you elaborate on the experience you had?"

"…It's a long story," He dodged. "You probably don't have enough tape to record all of it."

"Nonsense!" she exclaimed. "This film could last two days. We would like all the details of your encounter."

At this, John thought back to his friend who yelled out that John had been on the streets during the entire battle of the alien-robots at the mayor's press conference, which made him a little angry. He didn't want to be explaining his story to this ditsy woman who won't stop looking at him like he's her dessert. But he just wanted to get out of there as fast as physically possible.

"Alright," John finally said. "I'm not gonna repeat myself so listen closely."

He took a deep breath, praying this interview would go by hastily.

"Okay. Here goes…"

* * *

"Why the hell are you making me work till eight when you're not even gonna pay me for overtime?" John asked incredulously.

"Because, Johnny—"

"Don't call me 'Johnny'!" John interrupted, starting to really get angry. "I'm _John_! Not 'Johnny', not '_Johnny Boy_'"—he said this with extra disdain—"_John_! I am _John_!"

"Whoa, hey!" Mike exclaimed, holding his hands up to stop him from ranting even more. "Fine, I won't call you that, _John_."

"Let's see," John began in a sarcastically composed tone. "I've been working here for how long? Oh yeah!"—he shouted in fake exaggeration—"Four years! Four fffffflippin' years! And you can't even bother to get my name right! Uh, _duh_!" He added in a Jim Carrey-ish tone.

"Okay, okay." Mike chuckled a little at the additional "duh". "I get it. But look," Mike said, getting to the point. "We need to pick up the slack from the new guys 'cause hell knows they won't. Now, why we're even keeping them here, I don't know. Talk to Cam about it if you want, but I wouldn't advise it." Mark lowered his voice so John had to lean in. "Ever since that brain surgery he's been bipolar. You never know if he's gonna give you one of his condos or throw you out the window. Anyway, you're the only one who has time to do the job. Heck, you're the fastest with payroll. You give everyone their checks before lunch. I'm sure you can get this done before eight. How 'bout this: You're getting paid regular hours, but if you get all the extra work those slumps didn't get done, done, I'll give ya tomorrow off. A _paid_ day off."

Liking the sweetened deal, John agreed with false enthusiasm. "Sure! Why not?"

"Thanks, John. I appreciate it."

"Yeah, yeah…"

"Don't be so excited about it." Mike said, catching John's slightly annoyed tone.

Mike walked back to his office to finish some last minute work.

It was five-thirty and John wanted to catch up with an old friend who came into town the day before. Now John can't see him tonight and his friend's leaving again in the morning the next day.

John turned around with his hands in his khaki pants and leisurely walked back to his cubicle.

The office was deserted except for two other people catching up on their own work.

John walked into his cubicle and slumped in his chair, glancing at the "In" box: the pile of paperwork was as tall as his computer monitor.

John silently cursed the new slackers. He felt like he was being told to do someone else's homework; he's had experience with _that_ before.

John glanced down at the busy street below through his ceiling-to-floor window from his seventh floor cubicle, praying to God for this day to finally end.

He stared out the window at the bustling street at rush hour for a few minutes, procrastinating from the immense pile of paperwork awaiting him.

Finally, he got starting on the paperwork, knowing he can't stall forever, and he _really_ wanted to go home.

John looked at the clock after he put a few sheets in his "Out" box: 6:04.

He sighed over-exaggeratingly, and glanced out the glass wall again at the street, and saw a couple black armored cars that looked like military vehicles. He saw a few other cars too: a black-blue truck—which he recognized as a GMC Topkick—a silver Pontiac Solstice with a nice spoiler, a Hummer that was painted like a neon yellow ambulance, and a canary yellow Chevy Camaro with black racing stripes. John then saw a few soldiers get out of the armored cars. One soldier threw an green smoke grenade.

What are they doing? John thought. This isn't a battle zone! And what are those other cars doing with the military? And…and are those teenagers?

He saw a couple teens, about eighteen or so, get out of the Camaro.

What the hell's goin' on? John wondered.

Suddenly, John heard a loud whooshing. He knew what that was: It was a fighter jet.

That can't be good… John thought apprehensively.

He looked back down at the street because he saw a sign of movement from a car: It was the Topkick. But it didn't just move, as in drive away, it moved as in _changed_. The car was changing like it was mixing itself up like a Rubik's Cube! It was… _transforming_.

John couldn't believe what he was seeing; the soldiers and teens don't seem to be bothered with it, like they've seen the truck do that before.

The Topkick transformed into a tall burly robot with huge cannons attached to its wrists and cried out forebodingly, "It's Starscream!"

What the hell is "Starscream"!? John thought in utter disbelief and shock.

Right then, he saw the Hummer and the Camaro change into giant robots also. They were trying to prevent other humans from entering the intersection. The yellow Camaro robot along with the Topkick robot lifted a Furby truck like they were going to use it as a shield.

John glanced back at the soldiers who were scattering as John heard the fighter jet.

Suddenly missiles crashed into the Furby truck, causing an explosion that impacted the window, shattering the glass to pieces.

John covered his face and ducked under his desk, feeling a huge jolt that shook the entire building.

He heard hurried footsteps coming towards him as he crawled out from under his desk.

"What the hell was that?!" Mike yelled, complete astonishment written all over his face. He turned toward the shattered window and motioned at it with his mouth hanging.

"I don't know!" John stammered. "First I saw cars turn into robots and a missile from a fighter jet just shot at the soldiers and robots down there!"

Mike just stared. "What?" he finally asked.

"Look!" John pointed out the window. "See for yourself!"

Mike stepped over some broken glass and looked down.

"Holy shit," Mike muttered.

John stepped to the window carefully and glanced down.

"Holy shit" is right, John thought.

The yellow robot that was once a Camaro was lying face down right below the building. The other robots were spread out on the ground also.

Along with that, rubble was everywhere from the missile attack. Pieces of the office building's wall was scattered everywhere, along with some neighboring buildings'.

The canary yellow robot was what sounded like moaning from the strain. John could tell that that missile had taken so much out of it. The robot seemed to be crawling towards a boy that was telling him repeatedly to get up. Then John realized the robot's legs were blown off; everything below its knees was gone. The scene made his heart clench.

John saw a white soldier talking to a black soldier. The white, brown-haired soldier was yelling so John could hear them, "What the hell was that?! They shot at us!"

The black soldier replied, "They aren't supposed to fly below the buildings! That's alien! That ain't friendly!"

"Alien?" John whispered. "These are aliens?" he said clearly to Mike.

"Good God…" Mike said under his breath, still staring at the twelve-foot tall robots and rubble. "I'm getting' outta here before it gets ugly." He looked up at John. "You comin' with?"

"Yep," John replied hastily.

They ran to the elevators, leaving their things behind. The other employees seem to have already left.

After the elevator doors closed, John asked, "Do you think we can make it out of downtown before that jet starts blowing up more than Furby trucks?"

"That's what it was aiming for?" Mike inquired incredulously.

"No," John answered hastily. "The jet—which is probably an alien too—shot at the robots down there."

Mike's expression showed he understood. He answered the previous question. "I don't know. It could get worse before we even get to our cars."

The elevator doors opened and they ran out into the street through the broken windows and doors. Luckily, both of their cars weren't damaged from the explosion.

But at the end of the street, a huge tank was rolling towards them, squashing cars flat on the way. There was no way they could make it to their cars before they were turned into scrap metal.

Mike started to sprint to his car.

"Hey!" John called to him. "What are you doing?! Get back here!"

Mike didn't answer nor stop, but kept running.

"You're gonna get killed!" John yelled as he ran to stop him. Mike wasn't as fit as John, but Mike had gotten a big head start.

That tank was getting dangerously close to their cars.

Mike got to his car and fiddled with his keys at the car door. He glanced at the tank, which was two cars away from him.

John kept running towards him, several cars away from Mike.

Mike found the key, inserted it in the door and opened it. He got in hastily and shoved the key in the ignition.

The car started instantly. Mike drove out when the tank was just about to run him over.

"Yeah!" John heard Mike cry, looking back at the tank.

John stopped running and smiled at Mike's escape. He made it!

All of a sudden, the tank's barrel turned toward Mike's car and fired.

"Nooo!" John shouted.

The car exploded into flame and metal, forcing John to take cover behind a sedan.

John couldn't believe it. He just saw his co-worker blow up. John had never been on the battlefield before when he was in the service, and he always wondered what it was like. Now he knows, and he doesn't like it one bit.

John heard the tank getting closer, instantly making him snap out of it. He began to run away from it. He glanced back.

That was a mistake.


	2. I'm gonna get killed

**A/N:** Wow! I'm surprised at the positive result of the first couple days of my story being published! Thank you!

Review please! I appreciate it!

In case you don't remember, here's a recap:

_John heard the tank getting closer…He began to run away from it. He glanced back._

_That was a mistake.

* * *

_

The tank's barrel turned to face him. His mind went blank with fear. He kept running but his hopes of escaping were lost.

A silver blur skidded and jumped on the tank, and grabbed the barrel as it fired. The tank transformed into a robot as the silver robot stayed on top and knocked some notched missiles off the tank's shoulder.

John turned and ran, immensely thankful that he's still alive.

The silver robot flew over him into the building across the street, landing in a heap but got up quickly, ready to get back to the fight.

John glanced left down the street to see the burly Topkick robot twisting in mid-air while shooting at the tank robot.

John had to get out of the way. He was going to get killed if he stuck around.

He sprinted to an alley across the street, swerving through amuck civilians screaming in terror.

As he got to the alley he stopped and glanced back to see the Hummer robot jump over the transformed tank while cutting it with a large chainsaw attached to his wrist and landing on John's car, smashing it flat.

John had only leased that car.

I better not be paying for that, John thought hastily, but than filed the thought as ignorant and decided to concentrate on staying alive.

But then he thought back to the soldiers; He knew how to use a gun. Maybe he could help.

Where did they go? John wondered.

He peeked out the alley and glanced where most of the bullets were coming from. John saw some soldiers shooting the tank robot from behind abandoned cars.

John ran toward them and jumped behind a parked car where the white, brown-haired soldier he'd seen earlier was firing.

"What are you doing?!" the soldier yelled over the roar of bullets flying. "Get outta here!"

"It looks like you guys can use some help!" John shouted in reply. "I've been in the Army and I know how to use a gun! Do you guys have extra?"

"Sir, this is an elite team that knows what they're doing!" the soldier countered. "I suggest you find some cover, now!"

"To me, it looks like you're gonna need all the help you can get!" John insisted.

"Fine!" the soldier gave in. "Grab a gun and some ammunition from inside that building and start fighting!" The soldier pointed to the building at his right, where some of the soldiers were shooting.

John ran inside, staying out of the line of fire.

"Where are the guns?" he loudly asked a strong, bald soldier busy firing at the tank robot, who was starting to fire back.

"Back there!" the soldier responded without taking his eyes off his target and pointed behind him to extra guns and ammunition set messily on the ground.

John went over to the pile, grabbed an anti-tank gun, and put in some ammunition.

105 shells?! John thought. Damn! These things take a lot of firepower!

There wasn't any armor he could wear, but he spotted an abandoned leather jacket on a rickety table that could provide some protection.

John put it on quickly—it was heavy and thick, but it fit—and ran to join his now fellow soldiers.

He ducked behind where the brown-haired soldier was shooting, loaded gun in hand, and asked the soldier, "What do they call you?"

"Captain Lennox," the soldier replied while still firing at the tank. "I'm the leader of this team so anything I say goes, okay?" Lennox looked John right in the eyes when he said this.

"Yes, sir!" John said. With that said, John began to aim and fire the tank robot.

John started at the head, knowing that that was a weak point for humans. It might be a weak point for these robots too.

Unfortunately, this only angered the robot and it fired missiles from his arm right where John was located.

John felt the heat from the missiles' landing sear his face slightly as he crouched low behind the uplifted pavement.

"Do these things have a weak point?" John asked loudly to Lennox.

"We don't know!" he responded. "If they do, we're trying to find it! Now keep firing, soldier!"

John did as he was told and began firing again, but this time at the chest where the heart would be.

He fired a shot aimed right in between where the armor was split. The tank flipped backwards into the building behind it, landing on his chest. It didn't move again.

Lennox looked at me warily. "Was that you?"

"I think so," John replied, in wonder that he really did just kill a twelve-foot alien-robot.

Lennox seemed impressed. "Glad to have you on the team." He shook John's hand hastily. "What's your name?"

"Corporal John Destin," John replied. He only worked two years for the military, but he had done many things for the Army. He had committed his whole time to it.

"That explains your shooting," Lennox commented.

"It's Megatron!" a voice called behind him.

John and Lennox both turned toward the voice. The Hummer, the Topkick, and the silver Solstice robot that had saved John's life had all their weapons aimed at a menacing-looking robot that was three times the size of the silver robot.

"Retreat! Fall back!" the black-blue robot shouted to the soldiers.

"Get these people outta here!" Lennox ordered the troop.

All the soldiers, including John, made innocent citizens leave their cars or turn around to get as far away from that towering robot as possible. John tried to be confident and brave for the civilians' sake, but he was a scared as the pedestrians and wondered what he had gotten himself into. The civilians didn't protest when they saw the robots firing at the dark and evil-appearing robot.

John turned back toward the robots: the evil robot, supposedly Megatron, shot the Solstice robot, who was blown back and rolled to the ground, badly hurt. Megatron then grabbed the silver robot by the legs, converted into a jet instantly while still holding on to the small robot, and flew high and out of sight.

The silver robot's comrades shot futilely after them but stopped and looked at the direction of the tank. John then heard the strong bald soldier call to Lennox, "That tank thing's getting back up!"

Lennox turned toward the tank, which was indeed standing up and said, "These things just don't die."

John heard the sound of blades whipping the air behind him and turned to look in hopes of finally having some help.

They were dashed quickly.


End file.
